


Seven years apart

by PandaaaaPan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaaaaPan/pseuds/PandaaaaPan
Summary: Where Sherlock is 7 years senior of Mycroft.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 29
Kudos: 56





	1. 1983

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyGlinda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/gifts).



> I am just so inspired by this setting: what if Sherlock is the elder brother? I guess deep down I hope Mycie can be the one who is adored and taken care of. This is pretty much work in progress and I am definitely having fun playing with this reversal of roles :) 
> 
> And thanks @LadyGlinda for all the encouragement!

**1983**

Sherlock was 7 and he was having a brother.

He acted cool despite his excitement. _Another human being, all to himself. Imagine what kind of experiment he can do to it! Of course, mummy and daddy should never know._ With an air of nonchalence, he told mummy he would not object as long as the baby does not cry nor make a mess of his experiments nor eat his gingernuts. Mummy and daddy politely suppressed their laugh, which is even more annoying.

When they came back from hospital with a bassinet, Sherlock could not disguise his curiosity and eagerly greeted them at the door. Mummy held out a little bundle to him “ Meet your little brother, Sherl, this is Mike.”

Sherlock let the baby rest in his arms, which carried a comfortable weight and smelled milk, baby shampoo and mummy. He was red and wrinkled, a small round face with a few thread of auburn hair. 

“Mike for?” Sherlock asked. _Surely mummy would not have him a mundane name. As if he is just a gold fish._

“Mycroft. He is going to like it won’t he?”

“Mycroft” Sherlock rolled this name under his tongue. At that moment, little Mycroft opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock. His eyes were greenish blue, with a tiny tinge of golden speckles.

_He has my eyes! Definitely not a gold fish then. Sherlock thought. But I must look like a smudge of colours to him. Newborn baby can only see outline of objects 8 to 10 inches from their eyes (just the right distance when held in one’s arms). Hmm….would be interesting to see how to see how his vision developed though._

Still, against his scientific common sense, Sherlock smiled down at the baby. _Hello,brother mine._


	2. 1986

Mycroft was 3 and he has all he need in the world. He had mommy, daddy, and Lock.

Mommy doted on him. Daddy too. But Lock is something more special. He is extraordinary. Lock would bring him cakes (yummy!), puzzles (almost too easy!) and adventures (pirates!). Although much to Mycroft’s chagrin, Lock had no qualms letting him be the villain and walk the plank. All the time. Mycroft tried to appeal to reason, compassion and even mommy, so that he can be at the dry end of the game, but to no avail. “Y _ou had me walking the plank for the 8th times already. It is only fair that we switch.” “Who said we are playing fair?”” Lock, I am only 3. (Puppy eyes). Other children's big brothers let them have what they want.””Oh Mycie, but you are not other children, you are special. So no.””If you let me walk the plank one more time, I will tell mommy that you let your 3 year old brother jump into the pond!””Hmmm….Will you? I guess you will have tremendous fun while I am grounded._ Wish you a great time trying to climb over the hedge with your short legs .” So Mycroft decided to think his situation in a positive light. His days might be sometimes tiring and wet, but never never boring. Lock always filled him with wonder.

Things changed when Victor moved into the neighbourhood. Simple, joyful and kind Victor. To be objective, Victor could be a much more attentive brother than Sherlock ever was. He would slow down the pace to wait for Mycroft to catch up, with good excuses so it looked like it wasn’t for Mycroft’s sake. He would let Mycroft play the captain and walk the plank. He would save Mycroft extra strawberries on the cake. Mycroft liked him but he was also worried. Because Lock liked Victor too. Victor was also old enough to play “big boy games” and Lock and Victor would venture out hours on end. Without him. _Probably they would become best friends and forget about me._

He needed to act. That was why he was sitting on the staircase, after mommy and daddy has put him to bed and retired for the night, waiting Lock to come back. It was already ten to eleven, long passed his bed time. The lights were off and his eyelids were heavy. But still, he waited.

_Bang!_ A noise awoke Mycroft from his stupor. It was almost midnight. Sherlock must havre knocked over the newspaper stand while trying to sneak in. His curfew was at eleven but he never cared. Mycroft straightened his pyjama shirt (yellow with ducks on it) and got ready.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? ” Sherlock was surprised.

“Hmmm, I am waiting for you… Lock, I want to talk to you.” Mycroft started out a bit nervous even though he has rehearsed this conversation the umpteenth times in his head.

“Curious. What do you want to say? ” Sherlock casually sat down besides Mycroft and beamed at him. Lock smelled of sweat, summer flowers and mud. He must have been to the pond.

“What do you think of Victor?”

“He is alright. Why?”

“Yes, he is a good company. But you know I will grow up too right? I will be a big boy soon. I will be as tall as him and can explore places with you like he does. And better. I am smarter and faster at puzzles. I might even grow taller than him. I will also have more practice walking the plank at his age. ” Mycroft was babbling.

“Oooo…hold on, where is this going?” Sherlock definitely sounded amused.

“Lock”, Mycroft was looking the earnest, “Can you hold the position of your best friend for me? Victor is good but I want to be your best friend. I will be as good as him in a few years. It would be so fast that you won’t even notice. Can you wait? Please?”

Sherlock actually had the audacity to laugh. “Ha, my stupid boy, come here” He opened his arms.

Mycroft’s heart was sinking but he couldn’t resist Lock’s offer of a hug. “Not stupid.” He mumbled, tears welling up while burying his face on Lock’s shoulder.

Sherlock hugged him tight and patted Mycroft’s back. “Mycie, you don’t need to reserve anything. You already are my best friend. I really like Victor. But I love you more.”

“And you will never forget me?”

“It is rather hard to forget you, right? Little jealous Mycie.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Alright then. Now I decide I can like Victor too.”


	3. 1988

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry i left this story for so long. Just really hard to find time to write. So... finally! Though might not be of the best quality - it is now 1:30 am and my brain has most likely already shut down. I will aim to update more frequently from now on.

Mycroft was five and school was not even near exciting. Mycroft met other children but none was of interest to him. He was always polite and appeared friendly, but was not particularly close to anyone. Not that he cared. _They are small kids, caring nothing but chocolate and ribbons and vegetable-shaped erasers. Hmm.. boring, I wish Lock is here._

He was also too young to know how to keep his brilliance to himself. So quickly, being the most civil and cleverest, not to mention also the youngest in class, he became the teachers’ pet. Almost every single teacher (of course, secretly) wooed and pampered him.

This inevitably earned himself a few hostile (one-sided) faces among his classmates. Especially from a blond boy called Tom, who used to considered himself as the smartest in the whole universe. Mycroft was aware of it but was not perturbed in the slightest. Even at this young age, he understood very well that one cannot please everyone without being exhausted. So he decided to let them be, despite the fact that he could think of one plan or two easily to thwart such a self-proclaimed enemy.

Until one day.

Mycroft felt a hand gave him a shove while alighting the school bus. He ungracefully landed on his buttock. Tom was giggling on the bus, his eyes smirking. But Mycroft paid no heed to the dusty road he was seating on and quickly reach out for his bag. But it was too late. There were pieces of turquoise eggshells and yellow yolk running around, despite the handkerchief and paper cup Mycroft carefully wrapped it in. Mycroft’s heart sunk. The delicate piece of dunnock egg was broken. It was for Lock.

Sherlock was examining why certain eggs fail to hatch and was arduously searching for samples. He has collected a number of species, blackbird, blue finch, house sparrow and Jay. But not yet dunnock, whose eggs were a memorising hue of blue. Mycroft was so delighted when he found a nesting pair of dunnocks well-hidden in the shrub at the backend of the school garden. He has been eyeing this egg for over 2 weeks. All the other eggs within the same batch have hatched. Just this one, lying there in the nest and barely changed. A fit sample for Sherlock then. Mycroft was keeping this discovery a little surprise for Sherlock. But now it is gone.

Mycroft felt anger boiled within. _Tom needs to pay for this. I will see to it._ He patted himself clean and slowly walked back home, while in his head, plotting how to let Tom himself (accidentally) let slip his own little embarrassing secrets and would be forever mocked by other kids. That’s when he heard a familiar voice “ Myc! Hey!”.

 _Lock!_ His mood suddenly improved and turned around. _Oops, no, he must have seen the state of me._ Mcyroft grimaced internally.

Sherlock, now twelve and all limbs, was much taller than Mycroft. His hands were reaching out to ruffle Mycroft’s hair, a gesture Mycroft claimed to be annoyed with but actually quite enjoying. Then he saw Mycroft, the slightly chafed hands and dust on his pants. His eye squint and smile froze. “Who did this? “His voice suddenly cold.

Mycroft knew better than lying. “Tom Smith. But don’t you worry, I have this. “

“Hmm”, Sherlock was humming to himself, “the Smiths who run the taxi company? “

“Yes. Him.” Mycroft knew Sherlock has quite some knowledge about the local residents, so he wasn’t surprised.

 _“Let’s go.”_ Sherlock suddenly blurted, turned around and broke into a brisk walk.

Mycroft didn’t ask where but just followed. Ten minutes later, they were outside a nondescript townhouse with a little garden. It is Smith’s residence. Sherlock rang the doorbell and blond women answered. _Can I speak to Tom? My brother has something to give him._ Sherlock was doing the innocent face, again.

Unsuspecting, the blond lady went inside to fetch her son. When Tom saw who they were, he was momentarily taken aback. However, after a bit of deliberation, he seemed to deem himself safe to meet the Holmes brother. _Shit, Mycroft must have told on me to his brother. But what can they do? It is my house and mummy is right here._

Mycroft, of course, knew what was going to happen, made sure he was one meter away from the action.

“What do you want? “Tom asked, failing to mask his nervousness with his high pitch voice. 

It happened so fast that Tom did not even let out a whimper before found himself pushed hard into the small mud pond in the garden. “Teach you a lesson. Leave Mycroft alone or you will regret.” Then Sherlock picked up Mycroft hand and led him out of the garden.

Tom was so shocked he was not able to say a word before the Holmes brother stormed off. So was Mrs Smith. It was only after they were around the corner of the street he started to cry out for his mummy.

Of course, that day, the Holmes parents received some real ardent complaints from the Smiths. The brothers received some stern words from mommy but her eyes were twinkling.

Of course, if left to his own device, Mycroft would prefer to choose revenge in a more subtle, less-incriminating and possibly more long-lasting kind of way. Nevertheless, he was very much pleased with Sherlock’s response. Tom, and all other annoying boys, were deliberately avoiding Mycroft for a decent period of time. And Mycroft devoted his after-school time for a new round of dunnock search and found Sherlock another unhatched egg by the end of the month, who received it with much ardour

So all was good.


	4. 1992

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A case shared by the brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't look too close at the name of cities in this chapter...i found them on google map and would totally be out of place.

Sherlock was 16 and was in a gloomy mood. It was quite a disappointment to hear that Uncle Rudy could not come to visit just yet because of _some hiccups at work overseas_. _Overseas my arse._ But still, this was a huge bummer, as Rudy was always the highlight of summers. _Must be the imbeciles he worked with had a huge fuck-up_ , Sherlock sulked, _where did MI5 and MI6 hire these twats anyway?_ Not that Rudy talked about where he worked, but Sherlock just _knew_.

Mummy was brilliant, but she is a creature of the light and other other-worldly. It was hard for her to appreciate the sinister side of the reality. Dad was smart too, but being a devoted naturalist, he has only eyes for the seasons for wild orchids and migration of birds. But Rudy was different. He was brilliant in a way that drew Sherlock in.

Since a young age, Sherlock looked very much towards the summer holidays when Uncle Ruby came to visit, often spending more than half a month off the grid and simply hanging around with Sherlock. Uncle Rudy, beneath all those flamboyant exaggerations, have a pair of sharp eyes that can cut through most people’s pretence and non-sense.

“People see but not observe” He would always say to Sherlock, ever since Sherlock was old enough to utter his own thoughts. And would, in his unusual quiet voice, tear apart people’s secrets with equal part acidity and empathy, while displaying an alarming innocent smile on his face. Any passers-by would see a doting uncle and a raven-haired boy sitting quietly in the park or café whispering with low voices, all very cosy. While in fact, Uncle Rudy is meticulously teaching Sherlock about the art of deduction – very much like a teacher showing his students the dissection of the human body, laying out all the little secrets and intents like exposed organs in front of Sherlock, with scientific vigour but also the compassion that was uniquely Rudy. Sherlock relished the time spent with Rudy, for it was always filled with wonders and excitement. He was pretty sure that he was Rudy’s favourite person in the household.

Then came Mycroft.

Sherlock could not wait for little Mycroft to grow up so that he could share all Rudy’s teachings with him too. Mycroft was very much like Rudy, sharp-witted but choose to be more lenient with people. Mycroft also displayed more interests in arranging facts rather than observing the details. Being the romantic in the family like dad, Mycroft enjoyed the finer things in life, like piano, a lazy picnic in a park with desserts and flowers, and overall, stay comfortable and smell fresh all the time. Yet, he is a frequent companion of Sherlock’s adventures, though he always mumbled complains about the mud and the heat and all the running involved to Sherlock afterwards. Which Sherlock outright ignored, because he was too aware Mycroft was having a great time but just wanted to maintain his façade of a well-mannered English (little) gentlemen.

During summer, Rudy would sometimes bring the pair of them to archaeological sites or places with mysteries, and they would explore and solve puzzles together. Sometimes dad will join too, like the trip last summer to Gwyned, where tourists to Snowdonia claimed they saw bigfoot’s footprint on the mountain trail, as reported by the local tabloid.

Rudy and Dad had some good laugh at this claim. “Of course there are bigfoot in Wales. They just need to swim across the Atlantic!” Dad quipped. “And the photo of the footprint clear showed that animal walked on four feet!” Regardless how ridiculous the claim was, Rudy and Dad thought this might a good family outing.

Then the four Holmes men, except Mummy who would rather spend her summer days on the beach with Aunt Muriel, packed and visited the national park of Gwyned. After a few days of intense trekking, some frigid nights camping on the mountains, and midnight encounter with another discreet private search team, they finally found out that the footprint was the track a mountain lion, an escapist from of illegal pet trade from the home of a local businessman. In an attempt to cover up for this transgression and negligence, the owner did not alert the local police. He was hoping his search team could retrieve the animal and cover up the whole incident. He not only supported the trade of endangered animals, but also put the safety of other residences at risk. Uncle Rudy was very unapologetic in using his government influence to ensuring that man served his due term in prison.

After coming back home, the then 7-year-old Mycroft, his chubby cheek red of excitement of uncovering the truth and the exertions of intense hikings, declared to mummy he would qualify for at least one additional scoop of chocolate ice cream for a month because _he was brave and also needed to recover_. Mycroft’s face was visibly rounder by the end of last summer.

But this year, Uncle Rudy was not here yet. Sherlock felt boredom was slowly engulfing him. 

“Lock! You must look at this! ” Mycroft ran in and interrupted Sherlock’s brooding.

Sherlock looked up and saw the newspaper Mycroft was holding. He sensed something has happened. _Something exciting!_

On the front page, there was a photo of a middle aged man and a young boy. The title reads “Man cleared of charge for the death of his 14-year-old stepson”.

The death of the 14-year-old Benjamin Harris was an utter tragedy. Benjamin’s mother was out of town for a business trip when the stepdad-son pair decided on going for a beach holiday to Brighton. The trip ended with the 14-year-old boy found dead in a small holiday home along the coast. There were bruises all over his arms, wrists and torso, indicating violent beating and prolonged bondage with rope. The post-mortem also indicated that he has been subjected to anal penetration, although the tears suggested that the injury was sustained about a week prior to his death. No semen was detected. The entire nation was abhorred by this atrocity and the cased received extensive media coverage.

The boy’s stepdad, who was on the same holiday trip with him, naturally became the prime suspect. The police held Liam Harris under custody as the murder suspect shortly after the discovery of Ben’s body, but Liam was released within the next 24 hours as he apparently had a solid alibi during the estimated time of death.

According to the The Times, Ben and Liam checked into the quite beach house on 27 August. They were then seen a couple of times at the local beach and restaurants between 27 August and 30 August. Ben’s was estimated to have died between on 31 August early morning. His body was discovered by the cleaning staff 1 day later on the 1 September, who visited those beach houses twice a week for cleaning.

The last person who saw Ben alive was a local resident, Kate, who was out walking her dog on 30 August around 730pm. She heard a loud argument and glass smashing from the beach house when she passed by. She came forward and knocked on the door. Liam answered the door and Ben was standing behind him. Through the gap, she saw there was a broken coffee table in the house. Kate asked whether everything was alright. Liam told her that it was just an accident where Ben stumbled and broke the table. Kate left after Ben too assured her all was fine.

Around 8pm on 30 August, Liam left the beach house. He was captured by camera stopping by a nearby gas station for gas and a packet of cigarette. He was also later filmed by neighbour’s security camera to arrive at his house in Portsmouth around 930pm, a city about 60km west of Brighton beach. He was seen by convenience store cashier around 530 am on 31 August for another packet of cigarette. His car was parked in the garage the whole time since coming back home until the news of Ben's death. Despite all popular speculation placed him as the prime suspect, in the face of multiple alibis and no strong evidence for his crime, the police had to let him go.

“What do you think?” Sherlock looked up from the paper.

“Something felt wrong. That is why I thought you might want to take a look.” Mycroft answered. 

“Hmm… well done Myc. Something is definitely amiss.” All boredom was suddenly gone and Sherlock felt adrenaline rushing in his veins. “But I cannot place it yet….Myc, go get me all the other papers.”

When Mycroft came back with half a dozen different papers, Sherlock was already holding a marker in his hand. Liam Harris’ photo was circled out, together with the two paragraphs on the sighting of Liam by the shop assistants at the gas station and the convenience store.

“Lock? What did you find?” Mycroft asked.

“Look. This man has perfectly white teeth, hardly a common trait for such a heavy smoker who needed to top up twice in one night. Based on the shop assistants’ recall, including the one at the gas station, who has never met Liam Harris before, both of them remembered clearly selling Liam cigarettes. Liam argued with one, and had a good five-minute conversation with another. Look at the snobbishness of him, he is hardly the patient type who spends 5-minutes talking to a convenience store cashier, and at 5am in the morning! This would mean ….”Sherlock looked at Mycroft expectantly.

“That Liam was purposefully making an impression on both cashiers. ” Mycroft replied.

“Which means?”

“His intention wasn’t buying cigarettes, but to create timestamps of his whereabouts.”

“Exactly! So he might be guilty, as suspected by the police. His action felt too deliberate for him to be innocent.”

“Good point. But this cannot be used evidence”. Mycroft’s voice was pensive.

“True. That’s why I am going to look for more. Myc, can you open up all the papers on the floor and circle out any irregularities for me?” Mycroft scrambled to comply.

After a good half hour of carefully sieving thorough the reports, Sherlock finally broke the silence “So, what do we have in favour of Liam’s innocence?”

“Firstly, Ben's death was estimated to be tween midnight to 3 am 31 August. The body started to decompose when it was found but a rather precise time of death could be established because of the formation of bruises.” Mycroft answered.

“Yes, because dead body doesn’t bruise. Liam confessed that he had an argument with Ben that night, and Ben might have accidentally tripped over the glass coffee table. The table was broken and thus the bruise on Ben’s body. This event was also confirmed by what the Kate woman saw at 730pm. Bruise usually takes a bit longer than half an hour to form. So when Liam left the holiday house at 8pm, Ben must has been still alive. ”

“This is Liam’s strongest argument. That someone else killed Ben after he left.”

“Not very believable though. The evidence of previous anal penetration suggested old history, which fitted the profile Liam much better than any random stranger. “ Sherlock sipped on his tea.

“Lock? Hmm....What is anal penetration? I wanted to asked for a while” Mycroft looked at Sherlock inquisitively.

Sherlock spluttered. “Eh… this is strictly speaking mummy’s job to tell you…Or daddy’s. But anyway, it is…”

“Not good?” Mycroft frowned.

Sherlock corrected him “It is not bad when happening between two consenting adults. It is a way for two men to have sex, where one’s penis penetrate another’s anus. But Ben is only 14, so he might not realise what he is doing, or did not have the power to stop what was done to him. A child cannot consent. In this case, it is bad.”

“Have sex? Like how people have babies, like the one in biology book? Why would two men have sex? They cannot have any babies”. Mycroft looked puzzled.

“Sex is not only about reproduction. It can be about fun too. And not all men like women. Some men like men. And Some women like women.”

“Not good?” Mycroft asked again.

“No. It is just the way things are. But legally, homosexuality, meaning having romantic feelings for the same gender is considered not as good as a man-woman pair. But this is a topic for another day. Again, the crime against Ben was not because it was between two males. But because Ben is underage and has no way to consent. ” Sherlock made sure that he made his points clear.

“Oh.” Mycroft’s cheek turned slightly red. “ I didn’t know”.

 _I will need mummy to have a talk with Myc on this. She will do a better job than me._ Sherlock made a mental note. _I will tell Myc that I like boys another time. Better not to overwhelm him._

Then he continued “Let’s look at the second point. Liam's car was parked in the garage the whole night of 30 August and the whole day of 31 August. His house is a 60km away from Brighton. There was no public transport too. ”

Mycroft, apparently still thinking about the short-lived but also his first talk on sex, nodded but appeared to be slightly distracted.

Sherlock carried on. “ However, both pieces of evidence cannot exclude the possibility that Liam killed Ben, nor it disapproves it. The police are missing critical information about Ben’s death. But what exactly? ” 

“Let’s do a rerun of the events on a map.” Finally pulled back onto the case, Mycroft suggested.

“Right. Let’s.” Sherlock started to mark out the key locations involve. “Do we know where their house is?” He paused.

Rummaging through the newspapers, Mycroft pointed out a street name - Church Street in one of the photo published.

“Church street. “ Sherlock hummed to himself while tracing the location out. He suddenly stopped. All the pieces of information finally came together like a moon slotted into its right orbit. Sherlock abrupted stood up and went straight for the phone.

“Lock, what?” Mycroft followed shortly after.

“Oh Myc! We might be onto something. Good idea for the map! Look at how close his house is to the coastal river! If he can get hold of a boat, that would be a very convenient alternative for him get by to and from Brighton beach within the night. The boat can be new evidence that is needed!” Sherlock was so excited that he squeezed Mycroft into a huge hug. “Now we just need to look for the boat! There is likely to be more evidence there. I am calling for some help now.”

“Oh? I thought you would prefer to go see yourself?” Mycroft asked.

“If I go, you will follow too. Mummy is going to have my hides if I bring you. So none of us is going.” Sherlock winked at Mycroft and dialled a number.

“Hi, can you put me through to Rudolph Holmes. I am his niece”. There was a monotonous female voice from the ear piece replying. 

“Yes, of course he is overseas. But this is urgent.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

“Hi Uncle Rudy! Finally, i got you! I need your help. On the death of Benjamin Harris... I think the police needs to look for an abandoned fish boat along the coast in Portsmouth… Can you send your minions to look into this? ….Oh hear me out on this….”

The police found an abandoned boat 2 kilometres from Liam’s house and were able to obtain a confession from Liam Harris on his rape and murder of his stepson. What truly happened shocked the entire nation: Liam Harris started to take advantage of Ben about one year ago, a perversion unwittingly assisted by the constant absence of Ben’s mother. However, despite his initial silence, Ben was starting to rebel and refuse sex as he grew older. The outraged Liam pushed Ben against the table during their trip to the Brighton, which drew the attention of Kate. After Kate left, their argument escalated and Ben threatened to expose Liam’s doing if he persists. That’s what pushed Liam over the edge. He beat the lights out of Ben and tied him up. Liam then drove off, passing by the gas station and argued with the cashier deliberately to make an impression. Once arrived at home, he used a deserted boat on the beach and got back to the beach house. He then finished off Ben through strangulation and boated back home. Liam abandoned the boat in nearby coastal woods. He made sure that he was seen and remembered by the convenience store cashier the next morning. .

A week later, when Uncle Rudy finally came for his delayed visit, he also brought Sherlock and Mycroft a gigantic box of chocolate, which was supposedly a souvenir from his (fictional) overseas trip to Belgium, but in reality, a token of appreciate for their contribution to solve the case. Mycroft, like always, took care of Sherlock’s share of chocolate and was in excellent mood for the whole week while the chocolate lasted. 


End file.
